October sunlight and snow

Date: Oct. 7
Mileage: 22.7
October mileage: 168.9

So my Olympus camera is not broken. What happened is some mud somehow jammed down into the lens area and held the lens cap shut, which is why the camera kept turning off. I finally cleaned it out and it works again. Mud, salt water, snow, ice, falling out of my handlebar bag at 20 mph ... it all just goes with the territory of being my camera. Which is why I don't own expensive cameras.

Geoff is in theory going to be back in Juneau on Wednesday (I say in theory because the last I heard he was leaving northern Idaho on Friday in his rustbucket of a 1989 Honda Civic with 310,000 miles, and I haven't heard from him since.) Anyway, I was going to take a rest day today and knock off a bunch of chores to prepare for his possible arrival (clean the house, call the DMV, mail back that Netflix DVD that's been sitting unopened on the desk for two months, and dig out my big backpack so I could bike commute over to the grocery store and buy just enough food so it doesn't look like I've been eating canned beans and rice for three meals a day.)

Anyway, I crawled out of bed this morning, all pumped up for my mundane plans, when I looked out the window to this completely clear, sunlight-streaked, deep azure sky. And when you wake up to that, in October, you don't fret about covering up the embarrassing evidence of just how deeply you neglect your real life because you spend all of your time outside. No, when you wake up to a sky like that, in October, you go outside.

But because there were chores I really couldn't neglect today, I compromised and went out for a quick mud-and-beach ride with Pugsley. We hit up the Treadwell Ditch Trail until we were thoroughly splattered with cold mud, then went down to the sea to wash it off. The beach riding was great fun. A mid-tide covered a lot of the sand and forced us up in the gravel. We dodged boulders and crunched through fields of frozen seaweed, still frosty where the sun hadn't quite broken through the shadows. I had forgotten just how much Pugsley loves frosty stuff.

The municipal election made for a late night at work, and I found myself riding home at about midnight. Not many people in my small town are on the road at that time of night, and the air hangs heavy with an eerie silence. My breath swirled in a thick cloud around my headlamp and obstructed my vision, so I turned it off. With only a little handlebar headlight casting a thin white beam in the darkness, I pedaled along wet pavement glistening with flecks of ice. I'm still trying to get the hang of my bike commuting routine and still pack the way I did in the summer ... I had only a thin rain shell, cotton socks, no gloves. But I didn't feel cold. White flakes started to swirl through my headlight beam and I realized they were snow flurries. Sun and snow, even light snow, are both rare occurrences in October, and I felt privileged as the only person on the road at the moment, maybe the only person to have had the rare opportunity to pedal through both. It's simple moments like that, that remind me why I actually do enjoy bike commuting. Just like blowing off my daily chores in the morning, it's a regular opportunity to experience simple, satisfying moments that I otherwise wouldn't have.

Another beautiful day on Jumbo

Date: Oct. 6
Mileage: 12.1
October mileage: 146.2

It's hard to overemphasize just how inspiring/healthy/revitalizing the mountains around Juneau have been for me this summer. I haven't focused on training for any specific event since the 24 Hours of Light in June. (Well, OK, I did have a few weeks in August where I labored under the delusion that I could climb my way to adequate fitness for Trans Utah. I have since learned that, even if I had gotten the time off work to participate in this event, I would have showed up for it woefully, woefully undertrained.)

But, in general, no training means I can wake up in the morning and do whatever I feel like doing. If the morning has hints or even tiny flecks of possibility for nice weather, I head up high. The result has been lots of time in the mountains, working up a deep sweat in the woods until I reach the alpine ceiling with its vast spread of open space. I spend as much time up there as I can manage, devouring a feast of color and light until I'm convinced I'll never feel hungry again. When I come back down, I feel stronger and more fit than I think I ever have.

It's hard to compare my fitness right now to what it typically is in, say, February, which since I started serious training has always been my peak month. But compared to the end of any summer I can remember, I feel like I'm at my strongest right now. I can hold an 80-minute pace up Mount Jumbo comfortably. I used to just survive my way down the mountain, but now I can practically run. My formerly wobbly knees have finally achieved strength and stability that can take all the hard downhill pounding (too bad the rest of me is still as clumsy as ever.) But beyond just the hiking, my cycling fitness has stayed strong. My experiences on the Golden Circle proved to me that I have come a long way since last year - despite my lack of any real focus on endurance cycling throughout most of the summer. Who needs training when you have mountains?

Today's hike came in under three hours, probably a personal best. There was still plenty of time for pictures:

These ptarmigans are about halfway between their summer and winter plumage, which, as you can see, is still perfect camouflage for the season.

There was a light dusting of snow above 3,000 feet. I don't think this snow even made it through the afternoon.

As is usually the case with Mount Jumbo, the clouds didn't start to clear until I was on my way back down.

Why yes, now that you mention it, I do take a lot of pictures of myself on top of peaks.

I think my newer camera may be broken. I charged up the battery but the camera still shuts off instantly after I turn it on. I stuck the battery in my old Olympus today. I'm not going to be real happy if this one has to be my main camera again. The viewing screen is so scuffed up that I basically can't see the image in any kind of sunlight. It's hard to frame a shot with no viewfinder.

I have had friends ask me why I never take pictures of the city. There you have it - the city. We're expecting our first sea-level frost tonight. I just realized that I haven't yet purchased a set of 29" studded tires. Anyone have any recommendations for a set that can be used both for commuting and riding on frozen lakes?

Commuter struggles

Date: Oct. 4 and 5
Mileage: 38.2 and 43.4
October mileage: 134.1

I’ve jumped back into full-time bike commuting this week after a bit of a hiatus. I bike commuted nearly every day and everywhere for two months this summer. Then Geoff came back to town in July and tempted me with home-cooked meals during my short dinner breaks. I did half-and-half for a while, riding my bike to work and then home on my break, then driving the second leg. Eventually, I fell completely off the wagon, and didn’t get back on when Geoff left again. I felt so guilty about it, but being a car commuter is just so ... easy.

Well, this week, I’m back on the full-time bike commute by necessity. Here’s the part where I have to admit to an embarrassing personality flaw to explain my situation: I am, for whatever deep-set psychological reason, nearly incapable of dealing with bureaucracy. This means that any time I have to deal with anything that involves letters or forms - registering to vote, filing my taxes, paying my insurance, renewing my car registration - I put it off until the very last possible second, and sometimes beyond that. This often results in completely avoidable fees and consequences. I call these consequences “Jill Tax.” My latest mistake was waiting until Sept. 24 to send in my car registration renewal check. Then, on Oct. 1, my tags expired, so I’m banned from driving my car until the new ones come in the mail.

Predictably, the reintroduction to bike commuting has been a little bumpy. I’ve had to rush around. I’ve been late to work. I’ve forgotten crucial things like my headlamp and a clean set of socks. I’ve been completely stymied by the whole grocery shopping thing. I broke the rear rack on my road bike last month, so right now I can only carry what I can fit in a backpack. Since I haven't yet made a trip specifically for grocery shopping only, I can only carry what I can stuff in my Camelback beside all of my work clothing, lights and lock. I find myself buying small amounts of the same lightweight stuff I eat while riding. Today for dinner I ate almonds, yogurt, an apple and a Hershey Bar.

For me, there’s a lot about bike commuting not to like. I don’t like the extra planning involved in packing up an second set of clothing and a brown-bag dinner. I don’t like returning early from my more fun bike rides to make time for the commute. I don’t like taking sponge baths and blow-drying my rain-soaked hair in the office bathroom. I don’t like spending my dinner break at the office. I don’t like leaving work at 11 p.m. knowing I still have a six-mile ride home in the cold rain. I don’t like being wet three times a day. In fact, the only part about my bike commute that I do like is when I'm out there, riding my bike.

That should be enough, but it wasn’t to help me push through my first hiatus, despite the fact I had established a comfortable habit during my first go-around as a bike commuter. It may not be enough to push me past the temptation when my car registration stickers finally do come in the mail. I have to say, I am really craving a gallon of milk and a 24-pack of Diet Pepsi.

A cyclist who doesn’t like bike commuting is like a vegetarian who doesn’t like vegetables. They believe it’s the good and right thing to do. They recognize that they may not always be able to afford to eat meat. But deep down, when no one is watching, they still fantasize about devouring an entire bucket of chicken. Or, in my case, driving my car.

If I cave in before my tags come and get a ticket, I will completely deserve it. But I have to admit, the thought of driving is so tempting. Someday, and probably someday soon, my 1996 Geo Prism with 155,000 miles on the engine is going to die. When it does, I’m not planning to replace it. So I better start liking vegetables, and fast.